‘Something about Dennis niggled away at me. He asked too many questions about Dorothea and when I told him I was reading a proof of her biography he kind of looked weird about it, started mumbling about not being aware I worked at the same publishers as Sidney Crane. That day you saw me hanging around his house – well, I knew he was planning to go out and I thought maybe he’d left thedoor unlocked, or a key under his plant pot, and I’d have a little poke around,’ he admits sheepishly.
‘Harry!’ Although I know I’m not one to talk after what I did to Dominic Filcher.
‘I know. I’m not proud of it.’
‘Couldn’t you have asked around at work?’
He brings his mug to his lips and takes a big sip before lowering it again. ‘I did. They described him to me and it matched Dennis’s description, but I couldn’t be sure until I’d seen some proof. I’ve since found out that the address we had on file for him was his daughter’s. And then, last night, his author photos came in. And that’s when I knew for definite.’
‘Wow.’ I digest this information.
‘I was going to text you but I wanted to talk to you about it face to face. I didn’t think I’d be welcome last night. Josh … you know.’ He flicks me a knowing glance.
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about that any more, Josh and I have split up.’
His eyes widen in surprise. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says, not looking sorry at all.
I brush over it. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. But now the police know, it’s going to get out.’ I pause. ‘Not all Dorothea’s work was destroyed in the fire.’
‘What?’
I tell him about the hidden sculpture and then I hand him my phone. ‘I took photos. Scroll left.’
‘Wow,’ he says, thumbing through the photos. ‘This is … weird as hell.’
‘I know.’
‘She has a lot of birds in her art.’
My phone pings with a text message and Harry looks awkward as he hands it back to me.
The message flashes up on screen. It’s from Josh and my heart sinks.
AND YOU WONDER WHY I DON’T TRUST YOU!
Are the cameras still connected? I place the phone face down on the table, anger coursing through me. ‘Do you fancy a walk?’ I say to Harry, who looks surprised to be asked but agrees. I call Solly in and lock the French doors. He curls up in his bed and I decide to leave him here.
When we reach the side gate I notice the keypad has been smashed in, rendering the lock useless. Did Josh do this in a moment of anger? For revenge? I stare at it in dismay.
‘Oh, shit,’ exclaims Harry, following my line of vision. ‘Who would do this?’
‘I don’t know. But I’m going to have to call the security company back.’ I pull the gate to, a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
As we step onto the pavement, Harry turns to me and says, ‘So will you show me this sculpt—’
But he doesn’t get the chance to finish what he’s saying as the roar of a motorbike makes us both jump.
‘Look out!’ Harry yells, pulling me away from the road as the motorbike swerves out of nowhere. He grabs myhand and we sprint towards the fields, the motorbike chasing after us. For a quick, paranoid moment, I wonder if it could have been Josh all along but then I dismiss this immediately. Josh doesn’t know how to ride a motorbike.
Harry almost pushes me through the kissing gate that leads to the fields just as the motorbike skids towards us and crashes, throwing the biker into the air. I stare in horror as I watch him land hard onto the tarmac, the bike coming to a halt by a tree trunk, wheels still spinning.
‘Shit!’ Harry runs towards the biker.
‘Be careful,’ I cry, still in between the kissing gate, wondering whether to join him or not.
Harry kneels beside the biker. ‘He’s badly hurt. Call an ambulance.’
I pull back the gate and join Harry. The biker is lying on his side, helmet still on. I call 999 and explain what’s happened.
